


Baby Daddies

by Emilybells



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Babysitting, Gen, John and Mary's baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilybells/pseuds/Emilybells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning from a trip to the park with Sherlock, John realizes that he has accidentally taken home someone else's child and misplaced his own. Can he and Sherlock track down his daughter and fix their mistake before Mary comes back into town and learns of what has happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“What? No. No, of course not. Relaxing, even.”

“So tell me: why is it you waited so long to come along?”

“I was… busy.”

“You weren’t busy. In fact, you’ve spent the last week and a half texting me all about how not busy you were.” John tried to meet Sherlock’s eyes, but his previous flatmate kept his own fixed straight forward as they walked side by side. “This is about Mary, isn’t it?” John asked cautiously.

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. He was still avoiding eye contact. “Of course it’s not about Mary. I enjoy Mary’s company. Why should Mary have anything to do it?”

“You tell me,” John sighed, turning his head away again. “Half a month of “please come spend some time with us and the baby, get to know your goddaughter” and it was always “oh no I absolutely can’t sorry,” but the second my wife gets whisked out of town for some friend’s son’s graduation... Well. Here you are.”

“What can I say? My schedule cleared up.”

John rolled his eyes. "Oh, look - ducks!" the doctor suddenly let out, pointing towards a small pond a bit further down the path they had been walking along.

"What about them?" Sherlock asked disinterestedly.

"Ducklings!" John went on, quickening his pace until he was nearly running with the stroller. Sherlock kept up with him, and in almost no time at all the two of them stopped beside the duck pond. "Do you have any bread crumbs to feed them?" asked John.

"Oh yes, let me just reach into my coat pockets and retrieve the massive handfuls of crumbled toast I carry around with me at all times," Sherlock muttered sarcastically. "Besides, bread is bad for ducks. They eat seeds. And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't taking your young child to the park for her enjoyment and not your own?"

"She likes ducklings too."

"She's asleep."

"This is a multiple participant bonding event."

"There really is no sense in arguing with you, is there?"

"Not in the least."

"I figured as much," Sherlock sighed taking several steps back and sitting down on a park bench facing the murky green pool of water. With a smile, John joined him, parking the stroller slightly to the side of the bench first.

The doctor stared forward for some time, smiling all the while as he watched the ducklings and the handful of fully grown ducks that may or may not be their parents circle around and quack at each other. Past the pond and where the trail circled around it was a wide stretch of grass, in which two homeless people were hiding out in sleeping bags beneath shady trees, a young couple was set up with several textbooks on a wooden picnic table, and a man close to John's age was playing fetch with his enormous yellow lab.

"So tell me about yourself," John finally said, breaking the silence between himself and Sherlock.

Sherlock tilted his head and glanced over, an eyebrow raised. "You lived with me for two years."

"Okay. Yeah. But, like, tell me something I don't know about you. Like what you've been up to the past few weeks when I haven't seen you."

"You aren't interested in what I've been busying myself with," Sherlock decided for him. He turned away again.

John frowned. "I'm attempting to start an ordinary conversation with you. Help me out here."

There was a bench turned the opposite way pressed up against the back of theirs, and a young woman came over wheeling a stroller of her own, which she parked on the other side of the benches and then sat down to read her book.

"I don't see the sense in pretending to care about a subject for the mere sake of conversing," Sherlock droned, his eyes following a pack of female joggers that crossed his line of vision along the path opposite the duck pond.

"One of the many things I love about you," John sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Brutally honest and straight to the point. Because why bother trying to reach out and connect with anyone ever."

"I am connecting. Trying to, anyway."

"No. Mary connects. We talk about our days, even when nothing exciting has happened in them, and ask questions and discuss the weather and sports teams and the very little amount of telly we get to watch these days. You're just kind of sitting there avoiding eye contact."

"Oh, so I'm basically just filling in for Mary so you don't get lonely?" Sherlock shot back.

"I don't mean it like that."

"Oh? How do you mean it, then? Enlighten me. Please."

John smiled with his mouth open and looked away, which usually signified that he could hardly believe he was actually hearing this. "I just... I enjoy spending time with you, alright? And between work and desperately trying to catch up on sleep before the baby monitor goes off, I almost never get to see you anymore and I feel like I'm missing a lot."

"You aren't missing much," Sherlock admitted. "Haven't had an interesting case in days."

"Well, maybe you can do some babysitting for me? Just while Mary's away, I mean."

"Don't you already have a sitter?"

"Well. Yes. Our neighbor's daughter doesn't charge much and doesn't have anywhere else to be on weekends. But it's not the same. I think it'd be good for you. Both of you, actually."

"I wouldn't know the first thing about taking care of a child, John. While I admire your faith and willingness to leave your four-month-old under my protection, you'd be much better off sticking with your prepubescent regular."

"She's sixteen," corrected John. "But do let me know if you change your mind. Mary has had the luxury of being a stay at home mom, but I can't afford to stay out of the office while she's away and I'd much rather have you hanging out around the house and raiding our fridge than the neighbor's kid."

Sherlock didn't say anything for some time. "I'll think on it," he finally replied.

His friend pulled back a sleeve to glance at his wristwatch and made a face. "Oh, geez. I didn't realize how late it was getting. I still need to get back before it's dark to get dinner started."

"I won't keep you then," Sherlock got up.

"Right. Um. I'm just going to walk back, since it's only a couple of blocks. Do you want me to wait for a cab with you?"

The detective shook his head. "No need."

Suddenly the baby woke up and began wailing. "Aw hell," John mumbled. The man jumped up and hurried over to the stroller. "Shhh. Shhh, it's alright, Daddy's taking you home now," he cooed into it. And then to Sherlock: "Well. It's, ah, been nice spending time with you."

With a dip of his head and a half smile, the consulting detective hurried out of the way of John and his crying daughter as quickly as he could.

-x-

Hunched over his microscope with a half-finished plate of food beside him, Sherlock leaned away to jot something down on a Post-It note just as his mobile buzzed on a hard surface in the other room. He paused momentarily before deciding to ignore it and returned to his work. Less than a minute passed before the device went off yet again. The man let out an exasperated sigh and dropped his pen on his way over to it.

Both texts were from John:

Is this a bad time to call? JW

Please. It's important. JW

Sherlock stared at the mobile blankly for several seconds before beginning to type Are you sure you can't just text it to me? He paused halfway through his message, however, and deleted the entire thing, which he replaced with a simple Go ahead. SH

Silence lingered in the flat for just moments longer and then the mobile started to ring. Sherlock answered and pressed the thing to his ear.

"This isn't my baby," John's voice informed him.

"Pardon?"

"This isn't my baby," the man repeated.

Sherlock made a face that John obviously couldn't see. "John. Is everything alright over there?"

"No, it's not alright! I came back from the park with you and a baby, but it's definitely not mine!"

"You're talking nonsense. Maybe you should tuck her into her crib and get some rest your--"

"Sherlock, I'm fairly certain my daughter doesn't have a PENIS."

"...oh." Beat. "I mean, is there any chance that you and Mary maybe just didn't notice it was actually a he before? I imagine it'd be awfully small and--"

"SHERLOCK THIS ISN'T A JOKE, I DON'T KNOW WHERE MY DAUGHTER IS AND I'M CURRENTLY HOLDING A STRANGER'S BABY AND COVERED IN ITS PISS."

Sherlock pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Just... Just hold tight. I'm on my way over."

-x-

John looked about ready to burst into tears. "We'll find her," Sherlock kept telling him, his voice flustered. "We'll find her and get this one back to its own home. Don't panic."

"How can you tell me not to panic? I'm a terrible father! Of course I'm panicking! You stop panicking and fix this!"

"I'm not panicking, you're panicking!" Sherlock shot back defensively.

"What?"

"S-Shut up! How did you not notice, anyway? Don't you see her every single day? Why wouldn't you recognize that it was someone else's child right away?!"

"Maybe it slipped your mind, but I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in weeks on end!" John suddenly lost all the self control that he'd been clinging on to and broke down crying. He was almost immediately joined in by the mystery baby, who they'd stuck in John and Mary's daughter's crib for the time being.

"Oh, God, don't you both pull this," Sherlock whimpered, cupping his hands over his ears and shutting his eyes. “Alright, I’m going to phone Mary. Maybe she--”

“NO!” John suddenly let out, throwing himself at Sherlock and grabbing at the other man’s shoulders. “Mary can’t know! If she knew I let anything happen to our daughter she’d hunt me down. With knives. Actual knives. You can’t tell her!”

“O-Okay, so we’ll just have to sort this out before she gets back, then.”

“Oh my God what if she already knows?” John muttered, stepping back with a horrified look.

Sherlock frowned. “How could she possibly?”

“She’s a mother, Sherlock. They have, like, a sixth sense. They just know these things!”

“...I seriously doubt Mary realizes you’ve accidentally taken the wrong child home from the park. And if you don't want her to know, then she never will. We'll have this whole mess sorted out before then. Okay?"

"Y-You promise?" sniffled John.

"I give you my word."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock spent the night after John begged him not to leave him alone in his predicament. When the consulting detective woke up the following morning after a particularly uncomfortable night’s sleep on John and Mary’s sofa, he stumbled into the kitchen to find John seated in front of a table, the mystery baby seated in his lap and a laptop out in front of him.

“You put him in a dress,” Sherlock commented, coming up to the other man from behind.

John didn’t look up from what he was doing online. “All we have are dresses. Mary can’t seem to stop buying her dresses. Thankfully these fit.”

“Hm.” Sherlock leaned further over the doctor’s shoulder, trying to get a better look at his laptop screen. He squinted. “Is that a mum’s forum?”

Leaning back in his seat, John turned his head just enough to glare back at the detective. “It’s the email thread from our Mummy and Me class,” he told the other man rather matter-of-factly. “They’re fairly up to date with the ongoings of the early parenting community. I figured if anyone ought to know of something like this happening, they would.”

“You go to a Mummy and Me class?” Sherlock asked skeptically.

John let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s just a part of the title. Parental-infant bonding isn’t limited to one sex. For instance, there’s this one same-sex couple there, Paul and Henry - I’m sure you’d like them. They’re really nice.”

“I bet,” smirked Sherlock.

“Oh God not like that!”

“Are you the only other father in the group?”

John pursed his lips together thoughtfully and stared forward. “Although that would explain why they’re always so eager to invite us over for playdates,” he said softly.

A silence filled the room and John went back to his computer screen. Sherlock turned away with disinterest and began digging around through the cupboards. After a couple moments of this he found a box of cereal, which he began to eat straight out of the box, his back leaning against the kitchen counter now.

"So does this Mummy and Me class know all about your little ordeal?" the man finally asked between fistfuls of the dry cereal.

"I'm not stupid, you know," John muttered. "If I were to admit to this any one of them would have Mary on the phone in a matter of seconds, and then she'd be on a plane back here by tonight and I'd never hear to end of it!" John turned around in his seat to face Sherlock now. "And that's assuming she wouldn't want a divorce right away. Can you imagine? She'd be furious! Never trust me with my own daughter again!"

"Or son."

"What?"

Sherlock smiled. "Assuming we never make the switch back."

John let out a low growl, but before he could respond a little bell sound trilled from his laptop speakers. John turned back to face the screen and his face fell. "Oh no."

"What is it?" Sherlock asked. But he only had to look up and see an enlarged picture of Mary smiling back at him across the screen to know.

"Mary wants to video chat," John told him. He seemed to go pale as he said this.

“Ignore it?” Sherlock suggested with a shrug.

“I can’t,” John whined. “Too suspicious. Here, take him.” The man got up and shoved the baby into Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock accepted the child but opened his mouth to protest. John, however, didn’t let allow him time to do so and instead shooed the detective out of the room. Once Sherlock was out of sight John scurried back over to his computer and accepted the call, lounging back in his chair hopes of looking as inconspicuous as possible. “Mary! Hey!” he grinned. “How’s, um… the uh…”

“Graduation?” his wife asked through the computer’s speakers.

“Yes! Exactly! How was it?” John asked, trying his best to keep from looking guilty.

“It was alright,” Mary told him. “Cap and gowns. No one tripped picking up their diplomas. Lots of singing and tears. How are you holding up? Getting any sleep?”

John rubbed at an eye and smiled back. “No. But that’s life.”

“Can I see her?” Mary asked softly.

“Um… Actually, she’s still sleeping. Looked dead tired after staying up all night crying.”

“Oh, she misses her mummy,” cooed Mary lovingly. “Can you at least take the camera over to her? I’d still like to see her. It’s been lonely without my two favorite people in the whole world.”

“Actually, um, I-I uh, I have a… a thing, and um--”

“Oh, Mary, hello!” Sherlock let out in an almost uncharacteristically cheery tone as he peered out from over John’s shoulder.

“Sherlock! What a pleasant surprise.”

John gestured to his friend. “Ah, yes. Um. Sherlock. H-He, uh… That’s the thing. That I have. He is the... thing. Yes”

“Case?” Mary asked.

“Always. Speaking of, John and I are kind of in a hurry. We already called a sitter so you don’t need to worry about anything else, Mrs. Watson. Cheerio!”

Before John or Mary even had a chance to say goodbye to one another, Sherlock slammed the laptop shut and took a couple steps away from it.

“Great!” John criticized. “Now Mary’s definitely going to know something’s up!”

“Oh, relax,” Sherlock let out, holding up a dismissive hand.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The baby. Where is he? What have you done with him?”

“Oh. Nothing. I… set him down on the sofa,” shrugged Sherlock.

John’s eyes widened. “Y-You what?!” Suddenly the man was on his feet sprinting towards the other room, all the while shouting “Sherlock! He’s an infant for Christ’s sakes! What if he falls over and hurts his head or something? We’d be personally responsible for any developmental--” The doctor stopped suddenly, seeing that the stranger’s baby was not on the sofa, but lying down in his daughter’s crib.

“I’m not entirely clueless when it comes to caring for small children,” Sherlock said, coming up beside John. “You, on the other hand, are completely sleep deprived and paranoid.”


End file.
